


BLOOD BANK // THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

by vbligs



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: BDSM, Other, fight me herald is a verse but he bottoms very well!, this is shameless smut and im not sorry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vbligs/pseuds/vbligs
Summary: His attraction to you is undeniable, you feel it every time you speak, you move, you blink. Every moment like this one, where you place your fingertips inbetween his shoulderblades, to the place that hooks him up and away from the relentless grip of gravity. Something you used to envy.





	BLOOD BANK // THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

"Stop thinking like Steel, like Ortega. Start thinking like Herald - like _you."_

Your words are sharp, sharper than you meant them to be, but true all the same. Your trainee is too focused on being someone else that he forgets his own strengths.

_You'll fix that soon enough._

Work it out of him - break it out of him.

Break _him_.

No -

Just mold him into someone worth your time, gentle and smart, smarter than what was done to you. Make him into a worthy opponent.

The sound of Herald's sigh snaps you back to reality, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath, face flushed pink and hair all mussed up from where you'd just slammed him into the hard ground of the roof and eyes glazed with exertion - it's not a bad look on him. Something you'd like to see again.

Then you shake your head, banish the thoughts from your mind, the only remnants a soft smirk that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Or maybe it's Herald.

Again.

His attraction to you is undeniable, you feel it every time you speak, you move, you blink. Every moment like this one, where you place your fingertips inbetween his shoulderblades, to the place that hooks him up and away from the relentless grip of gravity. Something you used to envy.

He shudders beneath your touch and you can _feel_ him heat up, feel the blood race to his cheeks.

"Your balance is here. Use it to your advantage."

"Gotcha, boss," he's breathless in his response, twisting his neck just to catch a glimpse of your furrowed brow and twisted lips.

Idiot.

If only he knew the kind of monster you were, maybe his attraction would be dulled to a point where you'd no longer feel the backwash.

"Good. Again."

You don't wait for him to acknowledge your words, instead grabbing his waist and shoulder, twisting and moving effortlessly, pulling him into an embrace, fully prepared to crack his skull like an egg -

Then he twists, turns, and you have to catch him so he doesn't break his neck, strong arms on strong torsos, body heat shared between the two of you as something sparks, one hand around his throat ( _when did that get there?_ ) and the other pressing deep into his waist.

You go to ask if he's okay, genuine concern flicking through you in half a moment, your mouth half open when you feel it, the blood race from his heart to his extremities, leaving his cheeks cherry colored and he _aches_ for you.

It takes a moment, a moment where he blasts _need_ and _want_ and _crave_ at you, too loud to _think_ or _feel_ and your mouth is so _dry_ and your lips are _cracking_ , _breaking_ -

"D'you wanna come back to my place?"

...

Soft.

Too soft.

You press a hand to his chest, feel the coil of muscle twitch underneath strong digits - yours. You are strong, and he is weak. Fragile - glass. He is glass and you are fire, leaving him sun scorched (although he burns brighter than you will ever) and blackened.

He is strong but so gentle, and the place between his shoulderblades makes him come undone, sucking in a breath and not meeting your eyes -

_Coward._

No.

For all his faults, Herald isn't a coward. Young, naïve, a flier - yes. But he is so alive, and so real. He burns through your layers until you have to look away from his supernova eyes, the Ranger's golden boy his own sun.

If only they could see him now _\- if only Angie could see him now_ , you think to yourself, a half sneer of triumph covering your lips. Herald is the one to look away from the blazing fire that you are, teeth catching his kiss-swollen lips, eyelashes flickering over perfect cheekbones.

It would be so easy to break him - you want to. Badly. You crippled him nine months ago, effortlessly, like swatting a bug. It'd be so easy to kill him now.

But you wont.

Instead you press down on his ribcage, feel the stutter-bump of his heart, and bite, caged animal that you are. You bite and he _moans_ \- body shaking as he keeps himself grounded.

And all he can do is spit profanities, your name mixed in as your long, long fingers drag down past the patch of hair that trails down his stomach -

Down.

Down.

 _Down_.

He gasps - chokes on his words and his mind is so _loud_ and so _alive_ and you can't hardly breathe for all the love he's sending out, broadcasting, mayday mayday Major Tom.

Another choked breath and his voice goes an octave higher, because isn't this just so _hot_ and one of his _fantasies_ and god you're still all dressed up in workout clothes or something and he's naked and _melting_ in your grasp and -

_Fuck._

It's hard to tell where his thoughts end and yours begin, a slip slide slope that's fueled by lust-hazed minds and the fact he doesn't hate you for what you are.

Fake.

Plastic.

Dead.

Herald - _Daniel, Danny_ \- his mind pushes that at you, wants to hear you say his name and - _isn't he_ _ **good**_ _? Do you love him like he loves you?_ _ **Can**_ _you even love him like he loves you? Would you_ _ **kiss**_ _him and_ _ **cherish**_ _him and make him_ _ **yell**_ _your name, wake the neighbors and -_

Danny's hips buck and your voice cracks through too-dry lips, too hard and too sharp like broken pottery as you lose every ounce of self control - or maybe thats just backlash from him.

"Come on - come on, gorgeous, beg, beg for me -"

You don't even recognize you're speaking, deep and throaty and -

"Please please _please_ \- don't stop please don't stop, please - I'll do anything just don't _fucking_ stop -"

You mentally chide yourself for letting Daniel worm his way into your mind, filling every broken crevice and missing shard, smoothing the jagged glass that sits low in your stomach as his hands struggle against the headboard.

It's a good look on him, black silk and angry hickies. Wrists bound to the stiff mahogany that creaks with every strained pull, tender body flushing under every mark you leave, from neck to latching your mouth around one of his nipples, making him - mewl.

Well, that's a new noise.

It's enough to snap you back into yourself, enough to reinstate the shields and make him beg, although, he's doing a perfect job as is, voice catching as you play with him -  just long enough, hard enough, to get precum smeared against your clothes. And he's grinding against your thigh, slotted between his legs, like his life depends on it.

In a way, it does, and the thought is enough to make you chuckle, before you pull back, showing off a self satisfied smile at his whine at the sudden lack of stimulation.

 You hush him with a word, whether or not you speak it isn't important, no, what's important is making him feel -

Making him feel what, exactly?

Good?

Maybe you just enjoy the power trip that comes with this - with him. Makes you feel at home in not-your-body and makes you feel in control.

Like Eden but better.

Or maybe he's Eden?

A paradise.

You slip down, let your breath ghost over the head of his cock, let him throw his head back and plead for mercy - which is ironic, considering the last time he pleaded for mercy, you'd just destroyed his leg and left him afraid, bleeding and mangled in a wreck.

It doesn't matter right now.

Instead, you lick up from his balls to the head, hear his inhale, sharp and sweet, and oh-so-sweeter when you finally wrap your lips around him, let your hand splay over his pelvis as you go down deep, feel him hit the back of your throat and fight off your gag reflex.

And he  _revels_ in it.

The lack of control, how he can just float and live and be light - and he's with you.

You.

It's... shocking, to say the least. Enough to make you hum, which sets him off as you pull up, then down again.

And Danny -

**_Fucking hell._ **

He's in love with you.

It washes over you, loosening up too-tight muscles and pulling bright orange from unwilling body, making you feel safe and happy and at home. Makes you feel alive.

You think you might love him too.


End file.
